


et moi

by littlehuang (boyfrendery)



Series: on se prend la main, comme des enfants [3]
Category: NCT (Band), WAYV
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Not K-Pop Idols, Canon Compliant, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Heavy Angst, Home, Implied Sexual Content, Love Confessions, M/M, Moving In Together, Parent Death, Slice of Life, Tattoos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-04
Updated: 2020-09-03
Packaged: 2020-11-23 08:49:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,187
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20889386
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/boyfrendery/pseuds/littlehuang
Summary: je t'aime un peu plus fort(or: a collection of luren for #00fftober)prompts fulfilled: constellation, home, sweater, storm, antique, bets





	1. Day 4: Constellation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> lucas asks renjun about getting tattoos

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> applicable tags: Alternate Universe - Not K-pop Idols, Established Relationship, Domestic Fluff, Tattoos

“If you were to get a tattoo, what would it be?”

Lucas and Renjun are breathing steadily, deeply, the sign of their bodies finally coming down to baseline. Renjun’s head is resting on top of Lucas’ chest, directly over his heart, his black hair brushing Lucas’ collarbone. They’re slightly sticky, sweat clinging to their bodies as they lay on the sheets, the red flush of their skin fading out. Renjun can feel Lucas’ heart as it slows, rabbit thumping transforming into a comfortable, even tempo, a caged metronome keeping time in his chest.

The time is half past 5 and the early signs of a new day are peaking through the glass of their apartment window. Songbirds perched in trees have begun to chirp, the lonely neighbourhood owl hooting as it sits at the top of the apartment building, the low white noise of cars rumbling to their AM shift. It’s a quiet Tuesday morning: they woke up an hour ago, too early for either of them to get out of bed for work, too late to try going back asleep. There were other ways to enjoy the start of a new day.

Renjun, tempted to fall asleep again after being tired out, pulls their duvet over both of their bodies, bare against the soft grey linens. “I don’t know. It would have to be meaningful. And beautiful.”

He had never considered a tattoo before, at least not for himself. Tattooing is art, after all, and he can appreciate the beauty and skill put into that line of work. It’s quite beautiful, really: to love an idea, a piece of work so much so you choose to bear it on your body forever. Keep it with you forever, for your eyes always. “What about you, Xuxi?”

Lucas’s index finger traces down the nape of Renjun’s neck, across his shoulders, down the length of his arm. He’s looking out the window when he answers Renjun’s question. “Maybe something in Thai, for my mom.” He looks up at the ceiling fan briefly. “The lyrics to one of her favourite songs. She would sing it to me as a kid.”

Renjun thinks of little Xuxi, still big-eared and big-eyed, playing with his younger brother while their mother played the radio, melodies carrying her voice. Baby Xuxi, sitting in the backseat of their car, his mother’s head turned to look at him from the passenger seat, cooing soft words and whispered songs. Young Xuxi, tucked into bed, singing words in his sleep, the words Renjun now recognizes as those of his mother’s native tongue, her voice and songs still with him years later when he murmurs words into the night. He’s hit with a pang in his chest, a feeling close to heartache but even closer to longing.

Renjun looks up at Lucas, whose eyes are glued outside, still looking through the curtains. The sun is beginning to peak past the tall buildings of Seoul. “Where would you put it?”

“Maybe here,” he says, pointing at his clavicle. He looks down at Renjun, gauging his expression.

“I think that’s silly, for something like that.” Renjun moves higher up, until his head is back on his pillow, body turned toward Lucas. “If you got words there,” he points to Lucas’ collarbone, “you wouldn’t be able to read it in the mirror. It’d be backwards.”

“Oh,” Lucas breathes, sounding disappointed, his face falling flat. Renjun feels bad for shutting down his idea.

“Maybe here instead.” Renjun reaches across Lucas’ body and points to his inner bicep. “That way you could still look at it but other people could read it, too.”

Lucas sits up, the bedsheets falling down onto his lap. Goosebumps start to appear across his exposed skin, an effect of the cold autumn air, but Lucas takes his time to look down at himself, lifting up one arm, then the other. He rotates each arm slightly, tilting his head with the movement as he considers that space. "I like it.”

He pulls the sheet and blanket back over him, pulling Renjun with him as he tucks himself back into bed, holding him close. 

Renjun curls into Lucas, his left hand placed square on his chest. He uses his index to draw shapes on Lucas' torso, the lines he spent hours looking at as a kid: one stroke, up and across; another one, a careful curve followed by the stroke of a short line, down, near the middle.

He continues on, 12 phantom shapes later, until he runs out of designs to draw, until his canvas is invisibly full.

Lucas lets him finish before saying anything. “What were you tracing?”

“I was imagining,” he answers, now just swirling his finger in circles around Lucas’belly button, “your body as the night sky. I drew constellations across it, one for each of the zodiac signs.”

Lucas doesn’t say anything, eyes watching Renjun’s fingers as they move over his chest again. “This one,” he begins, tracing a shape close to what looks like a triangle. “Is Capricornus. My mom is a Capricorn.”

Renjun continues, “This one,” two movements, this time, shaped almost like a Y. “This is Cancer, my dad’s sign.”

“And what about yours and mine?” Lucas asks.

“This,” he traces the first shape again, one stroke up and across. “Is Aries. Mine.”

“You’re an Aquarius,” he continues, moving onto the second shape he had originally traced. “Your constellation looks like a W.”

Lucas looks up again, toward the ceiling. “Maybe you should get mine tattooed. Or all of them. Get the constellations of your family members on your back or your arm.” He tilts his head down, kisses Renjun’s shoulder, then his forehead. “I think it’d be beautiful.”

Renjun imagines himself, tattooed, a galaxy strewn across his back, the signs of his family hanging off his shoulders. His mom, his dad, his grandparents.

Then he looks up at Lucas and imagines the same galaxy, its constellations changed. An Aries, close to his neck; Aquarius, off his right shoulder; blank space in the center, for now, until they start a family of their own. Will their son be a Taurus, 10 stars down his spine? Or maybe their daughter will be a Gemini. He'll place her constellation square between his shoulder blades, keep her with him always.

Their morning alarm goes off, 6am, and Renjun keeps looking at Lucas, imagining them, their future, the rest of their lives. He decides that he’ll hold off on any tattoos, for now — he’ll wait for what the stars have in store for them.


	2. Day 8: Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> renjun and lucas move into an apartment together

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> applicable tags: Alternate Universe - Not K-Pop Idols, Established Relationship, Moving In Together, Home

Two and a half years into their relationship, Renjun and Lucas move in together. If he could afford the budget, Renjun would’ve kept his own apartment too: the place he’s called home since moving here six years ago, when he started university, years before he met Lucas. But this city is expensive and rent is high, so he leaves behind the keys to his small apartment — the shabby kitchen counter and tilted cabinet doors, the retro bathtub that sits below a window, the lilac-painted living room he never repainted — and moves in with Lucas in the late days of August, heart filled with both excitement for the future and sadness for the past. 

They meet with the landlord in the downstairs lobby with suitcases in one hand, the other intertwined with each other’s. “Here are the keys,” she says, handing them over, silvery and shiny and new under the dim lights of the apartment lobby. “I changed the lock yesterday, so it’s all yours now.” Renjun gulps at her words, digesting the concept of _yours_, the meaning of the word in plural.

In the elevator on the way to the tenth floor, Lucas strokes the top of Renjun’s hand with his thumb, along the ridges of his knuckles, the shy promise that it’ll be alright. _We’ll be alright_. Renjun lets go of Lucas’ hand when they get to their apartment door, fiddling with the key in his pocket and inserting it into the lock.

“It’s stiff,” he says after turning the key, noting how it isn’t a smooth fit.

“It’s okay,” Lucas answers. “It’ll loosen with time.” 

The apartment is the same as when they first viewed it, except completely emptied out. The couch along the west wall is gone, there’s no TV or desk against the window, and the kitchen counters have been rid of the condiments and spices. The fridge is cold and clean and empty inside. The stove and oven are made of old metal, probably made before Renjun could even walk, but it still works. There’s exactly one of everything they need: one bathroom, one bedroom, one closet. One apartment. Their apartment.

Lucas takes the luggage from Renjun’s hands and walks with it, rolls them down the two steps separating the foyer and kitchen from the living room, toward their bedroom. Renjun can’t see him when he places them on the floor but he can hear them thud onto the floor.

“Hey, babe,” Lucas calls from the bedroom. Renjun hasn’t budged an inch since stepping into the apartment. “You aren’t allergic to cats, right?" 

Renjun holds onto the banister and walks down the very short set of steps, entering the bedroom. It’s empty, like the rest of the apartment. He notices that the old tenants have left the curtains behind.

“No, I’m not. Why?”

Lucas is standing next to the window, now exposed as the curtains have been pulled to the side. “There’s cat hair everywhere.” Lucas holds the curtain and moves it around. The streaming afternoon sunlight makes visible the small strands of white cat hair as they fall off the curtains. “We can vacuum later.” 

He walks over and takes Renjun’s hand, whisking him back to the front of the apartment, out the door as they make their way back downstairs. They’ve got a few more belongings to bring up.

Over the first few days in their apartment, Renjun feels overwhelming sense of restlessness. He isn’t used to the way the sun shines in the morning through their bedroom window, how it hits their face at 6am. He can’t stand how there’s constant construction across the street. He isn’t used to taking the elevator to the apartment (his old place was a mere flight of steps away, on the second floor) and the extra time he needs to allocate to simply leave the building. He’s still adjusting himself to the routine and everything that comes with moving into a new space.

Lucas, on the other hand, seems fine. He’s chipper and optimistic as usual, more excited than Renjun is to find a home for their pots and pans, fill their cabinets with condiments and jam jars they’ll soon forget about. They both booked the week off to fully move in — deep clean every room, go grocery shopping, set up the wi-fi, go shopping for furniture they couldn’t bring with them — and spending so much time with Lucas is tearing away at Renjun’s sanity.

He isn’t sick of Lucas, no, never. That’s not it. He just needs some space.

“Xuxi,” Renjun calls out from the living room couch. There’s nothing across the couch, so he’s sitting at his phone, scrolling through Weibo to give him something to do.

“Yeah?” Lucas walks out of the bathroom in a bathrobe, too lazy from his morning shower to have changed. They’re not doing anything today, just waiting for the arrival of the shelves they ordered.

“I’m going to go for a walk to Starbucks,” Renjun says, getting up from the couch. He takes off his slippers and laces up his running shoes. 

“Oh, give me five minutes. I could go for a Frappuccino.” Lucas darts into the bedroom, and Renjun can hear him rummaging through the luggage for clothes. The dresser they ordered hasn’t arrived yet, either.

“I actually,” Renjun says, walking through the kitchen. He holds onto the banister that hovers above the living room, next to the fridge, where he can look into the bedroom. “I actually wanted to just walk. By myself.”

Lucas’ face is turned away from Renjun, his back toward the door, but the tone of Lucas’ “oh, okay,” is enough for Renjun to hear the evident frown on his face.

He then turns around and walks toward the banister, for once looking up at Renjun. “See you in a bit?” He asks, all smiles again.

Renjun leans down, kissing Lucas on the lips. “Yeah. I’ll be back soon.”

He takes his keys in his pocket and walks toward the elevator, trusting that Lucas locks the door behind him.

The walk to Starbucks is approximately five minutes from their apartment, barely a far walk at all, but waiting for the elevator takes almost as long as the wait for his drink. Renjun’s carrying back a Java Chip Frappuccino in one hand and a bag of cake pops in another. His latte is long gone, having taken a moment for himself at the café to sip on his drink in peace, surrounded by the murmurs of customers and the smell of burnt coffee beans. The feeling of liminality, the feeling of sitting in a coffeeshop with a latte, sipping as if he’s anywhere and nowhere, makes Renjun feel normal. Like nothing has changed. It’s a fresh reset, clearing his mind like the scent of coffee beans on the nose. 

When he steps out of the elevator on their floor, Renjun is hit with the warm, welcome smell of baked goods. He walks further down the hall toward their apartment and the smell only grows stronger, more warm and buttery when he unlocks the door to the apartment. 

Standing in only an apron, his boxers, and a pair of oven mitts is Lucas, in front of the stove, with a batch of cookies sitting on a cooling rack. Renjun doesn’t notice himself smile at the sight because Lucas walks over to him, picks up him and sits him on the counter. 

“I brought you something but—“ Renjun’s cut off but Lucas’ lips, kissing him fervently as he’s pressed against the kitchen cupboards. He returns the kiss with equal passion, using the last bit of his clear mind to place the drink and treats in his hand onto the counter space behind him. 

“I guess,” Renjun tries saying between kisses, the slotting of Lucas’ lips against his own so hard to pull apart from. “You don’t want the drink? I can drink it instead—“ 

“No, no, I still want it.” Lucas swipes his tongue across Renjun’s bottom lips and then bites down on it. “But I think I want you more.” 

Lucas works his way down Renjun’s neck, his face hidden in the crook between his shoulder as he sucks on the thin, tender skin. Renjun holds onto Lucas’ shoulders, hand pressing behind Lucas’ head. “Did you miss me that much? I was only gone for half an hour.” 

“Yeah,” Lucas pulls away, now looking into Renjun’s eyes. “I did.” 

They look at each other for a bit, Renjun suddenly understanding the sincerity in his tone, the look in his eyes of longing. “We literally live together. You get to see me every day.” Renjun cups Lucas’ left cheek with his hand, caresses his face for a bit.

He doesn’t say anything, just nestles his head into Renjun’s hand and purses his lips to the left, kissing Renjun’s thumb. “And aren’t I lucky?” 

For a brief moment, in the midst of the mess of kisses and tongues and hands roaming everywhere, sometime before Renjun’s shirt is splayed on the counter and Lucas’ apron falls to the floor with his boxers, a thought crosses Renjun’s mind. One that he wishes he didn’t have at all. 

_I think you love me more than I love you_.

That night, Renjun can’t sleep at all. 

He watches the sun rise with his head turned to the window, the slow scattered rays hitting his face through the curtains. Lucas is still fast asleep next to him, his face turned up, mouth open, long legs bent in angles Renjun can’t possibly imagine are comfortable to sleep in. 

He shifts his focus back to Lucas and traces the edge of his face in his mind. _I love you_, he tells himself, over and over and over in his head, still staring. _I love you_._ I love you. I love you_. _I love you._

It feels like he needs to convince himself that this is true. That this — their shared bed and blankets, shared closet, the box of unassembled shelves sitting in the living room, the cookie tray on the stove, everything — this was all a good idea. Moving in together was a good idea. He loves Lucas and that should be enough to make this work.

In his sleep, Lucas reaches his arm over onto Renjun’s side, resting his hand palm up on his hip. Renjun slowly lifts his hand and slots his fingers between Lucas’, holding it until the sun fully rises and a new day begins.

Two weeks after they move in, Renjun and Lucas get into an argument.

“Xuxi,” Renjun calls out from the washroom, loud enough for his voice to reach all the corners of the apartment. “You left the toothpaste cap undone. Again.”

Renjun forcefully twists the cap onto the toothpaste, his toothbrush still hanging in his mouth. The cap falls out of his hand and into the toilet. “Fuck!”

Lucas walks into the washroom at this point, looking at the toilet bowl. “Jun, what happened?”

Renjun takes out the toothbrush from his mouth and runs the tap. He spits out the foam and rinses off, scrubbing his face dry. “Just make sure you close the toothpaste when you’re done. I’m tired of it.” 

His head is foggy and he grips onto the clothes in his hands like he’s about to rip him apart, but Renjun doesn’t care. He’s annoyed. He’s angry. He doesn’t want to be here right now.

He flops back onto the middle of their mattress, still a mess of covers and sheets, blanket half on the floor from when they rolled out of bed an hour ago.

The scuffling of Lucas’ slippers grows louder as he walks into the bedroom. He pushes Renjun with both his hands, nearly off the bed. “Hey.”

“What,” Renjun groans, sitting up.

Lucas pushes Renjun’s shoulder, lightly but enough to tip him slightly to the side. “You’re not allowed to be mad at me.”

Renjun crosses his arms, staring up at Lucas as he stands next to the bed. “And why the fuck not?”

“Because you didn’t even make the bed this morning!” Lucas raises his voice. There’s a crack at the end of his sentence. “You can’t be mad at me for something _I_ don’t do sometimes, when I never get mad at _you_ for not doing something all the time!”

He thinks about this and deep down, Renjun knows it makes sense. It’s logical. He should just admit he’s wrong, apologize, move on.

But then there’s that restlessness, bubbling inside of him, and this time he wants to be mad. He doesn’t want to pretend like everything’s okay, like he’s okay. He wants to _leave_.

“I’m going for a walk.” Renjun stands up and goes toward the door, eyes down and avoiding Lucas.

Lucas grabs his wrist and stops him before he steps foot out of the bedroom. “No.” 

“Let go of me, please.” Renjun’s patience is hanging by a thread. He needs to leave.

“No!” Now Lucas is actually shouting, the angry shouting Renjun hasn’t heard in a very, very long time. It makes him want to crawl into a ditch.

“Renjun you can’t— you can’t just leave when we’re fighting!” Lucas’ tone falls, his voice quiets when he continues, “you can’t just leave and go somewhere else. You’ll always have to come back here.”

They’re still not looking at each other, Renjun’s eyes glued to the sliding door in front of him. He doesn’t want to look at Lucas when he answers, “I know.”

“So just,” Lucas moves his hand down Renjun’s wrist, to hold onto his palm. “Just come here. Please.”

He allows himself to be pulled, pulled by Lucas back into their bedroom to sit on their bed. His head is still turned down, looking at his lap, his feet, looking anywhere but up. Lucas just watches Renjun as he fiddles with his sleeves, pulling them over his hands.

Renjun decides to apologize first. “I’m sorry.” He bites his lip and pulls the sleeve further over his hand, until none of his fingers are visible, all hidden within the sleeves of his sweater.

“I’m sorry, too.” Lucas takes one of Renjun’s hands and holds it through the fabric. “I’m sorry for yelling. I’m sorry for the toothpaste.”

Renjun looks up and sees Lucas already looking at him, eyes tender. The anger has dissipated from his face. All that’s left is his kind concern, his patience. “I really miss my old place. This doesn’t,” he stops for a second, to find the correct words. To make sure he’s being honest. “Feel like home for me. Not yet. I thought it would by now.”

He moves in closer until he’s sitting next to Lucas, thighs brushing against each other. Lucas wraps an arm around Renjun’s shoulder and Renjun sighs, still playing with the sleeves over his hands.

“We should build the shelves.” Lucas stands up, taking both of Renjun’s hands in his own. “I think it might help.”

A month after they move in, Renjun thinks he can finally call their apartment _home_. 

They decided to paint all the walls of the apartment beige, to keep in line with their neutral furniture, except one: the wall directly behind the couch was coloured a light lilac, matching the living room of Renjun’s old apartment. They stripped the carpet from the living room and put down laminate, like in Lucas’ old place, and finally vacuumed away all the cat hair that lingered from the last tenant. The fridge has Lucas’ collection of magnets on the front, cities he’s gone to or ones that friends and family have brought home for him. They scrubbed clean the counters and inside of the oven, filled the cupboards with plates and bowls and mugs. Renjun’s favourite Moomin cup doesn’t belong in the cupboard, though — its home is to the right of their bed, on the nightstand, in case he gets thirsty through the night and needs water. 

They assembled the shelves in the living room two weeks ago. A petty argument ensued along the way, silly anger over misread instructions and incorrect screws, but it didn’t last long. The end result was a forgotten argument and a tall bookshelf with five shelves of space for them to fill.

They both stood in front of it, inspecting the real estate they had to work with. “I think,” Lucas begins, his hand rest cupping his chin. “Our shelves should be separate. You can decorate yours and I’ll do mine.”

It took half an hour of arranging and rearranging, stacking books high and leaning postcards in the right direction, but Renjun filled his two shelves with remnants of his old home, as he did on the shelf he left behind. He examined his work with pride and was glad to know that Lucas was right: it made him feel a little more at home.

“What about the fifth shelf?” Renjun asked. He assumed Lucas would decorate that for himself, too, since he had more things to unpack.

“Do you wanna leave it empty?” Lucas says, setting down an old camera on the third shelf. “We can add stuff to it later.”

He wasn’t sure what more they could add to the shelf at the time, but two weeks later it’s already begun to fill up. They’ve framed the movie tickets to their first date and placed it in the center of the shelf. To the right are shells from their beach day, the ones Lucas found in his beach shorts on the ride home. In the corner is small stuffed duck, the one they saw in Chinatown that reminded Renjun of the pond near his childhood home.

Renjun learns that home doesn’t happen overnight. It’s the small accumulation of awhile, building habits and learning each other. Lucas doesn’t like screw-on caps, so Renjun buys toothpaste that’s easier to open and close. Renjun remembers to make the bed before he heads to the bathroom to keep the room tidy when they come home. He picks up after Lucas’ socks and puts them in the laundry hamper if he notices them on the floor. Lucas changes the towels in the kitchen every Sunday, to start the week fresh. 

He wakes up early one morning, the days having gotten shorter and the sun rising more slowly, and watches Lucas sleep in that god-awful angle of his, legs bent and arms everywhere. He whispers “I love you” out loud, enough for both of them to hear, and he doesn’t need to repeat them again to know that they’ll be alright.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the idea of this fic came from a scene in [lover’s dictionary](https://www.newyorker.com/books/page-turner/for-the-lovers-dictionary), one of my favourite books: it’s a short, sweet read with a really unique concept of storytelling. the [twitter](https://twitter.com/loversdiction) account for the book is also fantastic.


	3. Day 11: Sweater

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> lucas lists the truths of his life

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> applicable tags: Alternate Universe - College/University, Domestic Fluff, Slice of Life

Lucas is an _excellent_ student. He’s a fantastic, A+ student, scoring consistent 90s and befriending his professors after class. When he finishes his degree in a few years, he definitely won’t have any issues with getting recommendations, so post-undergrad is already optimistic. He’s got great friends and a wonderful boyfriend. He plays on the varsity basketball team, works part-time on weekends, manages to get enough sleep every night, and drinks over two litres of water a day. He’s an excellent student, what every university student strives to be.

These are words that Yukhei wishes he could say were entirely true — but they’re not. Instead, he’s flooded with the readings he’s neglected to do for the first half of the semester. He’s sitting at his desk, staring at a blank document for 10 minutes with nothing to write. The essay he’s trying to start is a week overdue, sitting at a 25% grade deduction that’s only rising, and he looks up at the calendar hanging above his desk and— wait, since when did he have an online quiz due tomorrow night? God, his life is a mess. It’s a fucking mess.

Lucas is the kid he wants to be, somehow balancing all the parts of being a university student with ease and excellence, but Yukhei is who he is: this mess of a person with his toes feeling like they’re dipped into too many bodies of water. His grades have gone to shit, his friends are all busy, his professors are intimidating to talk to. Working on his days off from school sucks and playing basketball takes too much energy and time. Sometimes he forgets to sleep, other days all he does is sleep, and he drinks more coffee than water. He’s not an excellent student, but he’s what every university student _actually_ is: a mess.

“Yukhei? How’s it going with the essay?”

Yukhei looks over his shoulder and sees Renjun standing at his doorway, a ceramic mug in his hands. He’s wearing shorts and his favourite sweater, a navy blue crewneck that reaches past his hips, sits mid-thigh. A doodle of a spaceship is on the front, all cartoony in its white lines, and the words above it read “not alone.” Renjun’s always had a thing for aliens.

“It’s not going,” Yukhei gets up from his desk, walking over to where Renjun is standing. He takes the mug out of his hands and sips it. “Ah, herbal. Not green tea?”

Renjun takes the cup back, holding it with his sweater paws. “I’m not staying up to study tonight. I’m watching a movie on my laptop.” He takes Lucas’ hand in his. “Wanna join me?

Yukhei looks back at the blank document on his screen, then at his calendar, the bag next to his desk, the textbooks on the floor. Then he looks at Renjun, sweater paw-ed and cozy, and decides that his life is definitely a mess but at least his relationship isn’t.

They cozy up on Renjun’s single bed, Yukhei holding Renjun in his arms. There isn’t enough room on the bed for them to _not_ be in this position, especially with the laptop taking up significant space on the mattres, but it’s fine. It gives Yukhei an excuse to cradle Renjun in his arms, holding him as close as possible, the hem of his sweater against his collarbone, Renjun’s shoulder just low enough for Yukhei to bury his nose into it. He inhales and notes that Renjun doesn’t usually smell like anything. If he does have a scent clinging to his clothes, it’s either the fresh smell of newly washed laundry or the warm spices of hotpot.

Renjun knocks out first, tea forgotten and eyes tired, and rolls over to face Yukhei as he sleeps. The words he wishes were true still sit with Yukhei as he looks at the laptop monitor, staying awake to watch the movie but not registering the plot. It’s not true that he’s an excellent student. He doesn’t drink two litres of water a day, he doesn’t have a consistent sleeping pattern, he barely plays basketball.

But it's true that he has a wonderful boyfriend. In moments like this, that’s all that really matters.


	4. Day 9: Storm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> renjun braves a storm and comes to terms with his feelings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> applicable tags: Canon Compliant, Love Confessions

Renjun isn't one to let the weather keep him inside. Be it the relentless winter wind that blows through the city, cutting his cheekbones as they skate through the endless horizon of sky-rises, or the spring rain showers that pelt onto the back of his jacket, the seasons and the weather won't stop him. He's too stubborn to let a little storm keep him from getting to where he needs to go.

More like _who_ he needs to see. He really needs to talk to Lucas.

Renjun stops for a moment, glancing at his phone once before burying it again in his coat pocket. The message he sent a couple hours ago is still marked as read but no reply has come since. He tugs on his gloves and continues walking down the street.

It's been less than five minutes since he stepped outside and he's absolutely breathless by the time he reaches the streetlight. His beanie and face mask do little to protect him from the harsh January weather. Although WayV's dorm is a only few buildings down the road and one upward climb of stairs from Dream's place, the piercing wind and hail that accompany his walk make him feel like he's travelling through something out of _The Day After Tomorrow_. If he ignored the Korean roadsigns and blatant difference in population, Renjun could imagine himself in New York City instead of Seoul, traversing the negative degree weather. It's that fucking cold outside.

Renjun grits his teeth, ducking his head to shield himself from the hail that blows straight into his line of vision. Luckily he has this route memorized: his eyesight isn't needed to guide him past the convenience store and around the corner to the secluded building where WayV dorms. This isn't the first or last time he's snuck out to visit Lucas.

He hopes this isn't the last time.

The flickering lightbulb on the lefthand side of the street gives away his proximity to the dorm. It's close, less than a few metres away, but the hail is set on giving him a taste of what frozen hell is like. He resists the wind, holding tighter onto his coat to grasp what remaining body heat is left within.

As soon as he steps inside the building, his glasses fog up from the sudden warmth. He can barely see when he walks up the stairwell but his muscle memory serves him better than his eyesight. Once he reaches the front door of the dorm, he knocks and takes off his glasses, wiping away the fog coating the lenses.

Yangyang greets him with a Switch controller in his hand. "You walked all the way here? Crazy, bro." He steps aside, watching as Renjun slips off his sneakers and hang his coat over a chair.

Renjun keeps to himself, weaving through the living room and hallway wordlessly as he walks toward Lucas' room. He passes by Kun and Ten's room, noticing the keyboard set up over the desk and Kun nodding along with large headphones over his ears. He makes a mental note to say hi to everyone later.

Lucas' door is closed when he approaches the room. His hands are still cold, shivering as he reaches for the handle, but he can't tell if it shakes from the cold or the underlying nervousness of coming here. Of the question that's been sitting in his mouth for the last few hours, thick and heavy on his tongue. He can't swallow this feeling and let it sit in his stomach. He needs to talk to Lucas, ask if he meant it, if he still means it.

Sicheng beats him to opening the door. Somehow the older boy has always had this _feeling _when it came to them: he can sense something's wrong before either of them get a word in. Maybe it's the years of knowing both of them, the older brother instinct that wants to protect them, or maybe it's the transparency that Lucas lives with, his feelings and heart unashamedly worn on his sleeve, that tells Sicheng more than they need to say.

And that's the problem here, really: what's been transparent enough for him to see, for _everyone_ to see, that Renjun has deliberately chosen to ignore. That there's more to all of this —the stolen hallway kisses, the late night sneak outs, the daytime cuddles and breathtaking nights — than just bodies and comfort. It's always been more than just convenience.

Sicheng opens the door, gives Renjun a knowing look, and walks down the hall, leaving the door open for Renjun to pass through.

Lucas looks up from his phone, a brief moment of surprise flashing through his face. He looks Renjun up and down and says, "you should've dressed warmer." He continues scrolling through his phone, the only signal of welcome being the subtle shift of his body weight, how he scoots over and folds his blanket to expose some space on the mattress — an open invitation to lie in the bed with him.

Renjun accepts it, peeling off his bottoms and sweater to lie next to Lucas under the blanket. He resists the temptation to nestle into him, not yet. He doesn't deserve that right now.

"It's really cold outside." Lucas puts down his phone, placing it on the headboard behind him. He takes Renjun's glasses and folds them, putting them next to his phone. His body turns, one arm wrapping around Renjun's shoulders. "You shouldn't have walked through that kind of weather."

Renjun plays with a small hole in his shirt, prodding it with his fingers. "That's never stopped me before, has it?" He exhales, slow, thawing his body under the weight of the covers and the heat of Lucas' body next to him. "I didn't want our conversation to end like it did."

"Then tell me what you want because I'm _tired_, Renjun. I'm so tired of doing this and not knowing what's going on between us." 

Lucas keeps Renjun against him, wraps into him tighter. The months of cuddling close like this, welcome and warm in each other's arms — they don't just go away with an argument, no matter how hurt either of them feel. Lucas draws Renjun in like gravity bringing him back to earth and Renjun applies no resistance to fight it. 

He lets himself be pulled, turning himself so his back is against Lucas' chest, the space behind his knees occupied by Lucas' long limbs entangled in his. He takes Lucas' hand and places it over his chest, his heart, showing him how quickly it beats. He weaves their fingers together like they've done so many times before. Every ridge of his skin, the knobs of his knuckles — Renjun feels them with his fingertips and traces them as if to etch the feeling into his memory.

Renjun has braced himself for storms of all kinds, weathered them with a fiery determination for survival. Just like the hail that battered against him not so long ago, he fought against these feelings, resisted the tumultuous wind and rain of emotions that knock at his heart.

But he can't do that anymore. He's gone too long pretending to feel nothing.

"I want what you want." Renjun clutches onto Lucas' hand a bit tighter, curls himself into his touch. "I want us."

He hears Lucas' breath hitch behind him, but continues, "you said it already but I need to ask anyway." He turns his body, rotating to be face to face with Lucas. "Do you really love me?"

It suddenly feels too hot under the covers, heat spreading through his face and chest, the tops of his ears and cheeks. Renjun warms and waits, silent until Lucas looks him in the eyes and says, "I love you, Renjun. More than you know."

And it's in hearing those words, whispered loud enough for only for him to hear, that Renjun _knows_, knows with a certainty that he's been denying himself all this time: he loves Lucas, too.

He takes Lucas' cheeks in the warm palms of his hands and leans in, pressing their lips together. He kisses him once, shutting his eyes as he says, "I love you, Xuxi. I don't want to pretend that I don't anymore."

Lucas holds on to Renjun's waist, tightening his grip there as he returns the kiss. "Then stop holding back. Just," he pauses, pulling away. "It doesn't have to be so hard. Stop being afraid of what could happen and just love me."

Renjun falls into their usual movements, moving himself to straddle Lucas' lap. He looks into Lucas' eyes, pupils wide from the darkness, and smiles as he leans down to kiss him again.

Their lips meet once more and it's different, the kind of change that makes Renjun's heart slow down instead of speed up. They've kissed a hundred times before but the addition of the _love_, love finally acknowledged and admitted out loud, makes each movement on his lips feel dizzying in a new way. Each kiss is gentle, patient, relishing the other's touch. Gone is the fervent and desperate _need_ that motivated them, the need that fuelled months of seeking pleasure from each other and nothing more. In its place is the steady rhythm of _want_, slow to savour every kiss on their lips, every press of fingertips into their skin — a deep yearning for more than they need.

_It doesn't have to be hard_, Renjun thinks, assures himself that it could just be easy. It could be as easy as the hand gliding under his shirt, finding purchase on the small of his back, or as an _I love you_ quickly rolled off his tongue in the middle of a kiss. He could see himself loving Lucas freely, easily.

Lucas mutters a small "I love you" again, quiet on his lips, and for once, Renjun wants it to be this easy. He doesn't want to fight the storm that brews inside him anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> stay home and stay safe everyone!


	5. Day 21: Antique

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> renjun meets lucas' extended family

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> applicable tags: Alternate Universe - Not K-pop Idols, Heavy Angst, Parent Death

Lucas has two aunts and three uncles on his mother’s side. They’re unconditionally loving: much like Lucas himself, his affection flowing endlessly for loved ones. Much like his mother, her arms open to whoever walks through the door.

At least that’s what Renjun is told. He hasn’t met them yet.

This isn’t the case for Lucas, however. Renjun’s extended family lives close to home, close enough to Seoul for them to visit during New Year, for Lucas to charm his family with his smile. Two months into their relationship he wooed Renjun’s uncles with his jokes, collected laughter like pebbles in his pocket as he played peekaboo with Renjun’s youngest cousin. Held his hand the entire night, because Renjun was _nervous_ for everyone to meet him, worried it’s too soon, worried they wouldn’t welcome him as freely as he wants them to.

They liked him, though. Told him _you’re so handsome, you’re great with the kids. _Even better, they praised him with the best sort of compliment: _your mother raised you well. _Renjun’s favourite aunt, to be specific, said that to Lucas, later pulled Renjun to the side after dinner to bluntly tell him that Lucas is _nice, better than the last one_ with a relaxed, honest smile. That’s why Renjun likes her the best: there are no bullshit pleasantries to cut through in their conversations. She takes to the people she likes, and at the end of the night it’s clear that he had her approval, hugging Lucas before they went home.

But Renjun— Renjun meets Lucas’ aunts and uncles and cousins all at once, sometime in the third year of their relationship. The sun blazes over his shoulder when he meets all of them, and though their welcome is with arms stretched, he can’t feel their warmth.

He doesn’t know this yet.

He doesn’t expect it, either, until the absolute second he _does_, moments after finding Lucas in front of his apartment door at 7 in the morning. Doesn’t make sense of it until Lucas toes off his shoes and walks into Renjun’s home without a word, or a kiss, or a hug. He takes a seat at the dining room table with his head in his hands, then his head on the table, shuddering, wetting the clean white of Renjun's table cloth with his tears.

Renjun understands when he pulls up a chair and sits by his side. He wraps his arms around the man he loves, always so strong, and lets him mumble _she’s gone, she’s gone_ into his shoulder until his voice vanishes and Lucas shrinks within himself, small in Renjun’s arms, the smallest he’s ever been in his life. Renjun doesn’t cry until Lucas is asleep on his couch, blanket up to his chin, wrapped in his mother’s love and protected in his slumber.

They book a flight to Thailand the next morning and make plans to stay there for two weeks. Renjun memorizes every name in Lucas’ family on the plane ride there, and each foreign syllable dries on his tongue whenever he extends his hand and they stretch their arms, immediately taking him into a hug. He can’t count how many times he is hugged in those two weeks.

They come back home with fragments of her memory gathered like vases displayed on a shelf, a collection of recollection lined up in the back of their minds. They keep her memory, _her_, with them, and life continues on as it does, antiques collecting dust with time. But the suddenness of death doesn’t devastate you once: their love seeps into your living, reminders of them kept where you least expect it.

The next time they see Renjun’s favourite aunt, she hugs both of them, and for a moment dust blows off the shelf.

_I’ve never had a mother leave this earth.  
_ _I’ve never been without love._

_— My Mother, My Mother_ by Luther Hughes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> quote taken from [this](https://poets.org/poem/my-mother-my-mother) poem.


	6. Day 19: Bets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> donghyuck bumps into someone before his class with renjun

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> applicable tags: Lee Donghyuck | Haechan, Alternate Universe - College/University

The line-up at Starbucks seems to take _ forever_.

“C’mon, c’mon,” Donghyuck mutters under his breath. There’s one person in front of him in line and less than 10 minutes left for him to dash across campus and get to his class. He taps his foot as he waits, more impatient than he usually is prior to 9am classes, but today’s circumstances are far from the usual.

Donghyuck looks down at his shoes tapping against the floor: an atrocious pair of navy blue slides, the words “YO DREAM!” spread across in big, white text. Paired with it is a pair of old grey sweats he found slung over his desk chair and way-too-large t-shirt with sleeves sitting at his elbows. Not his most put-together look, that’s for certain. He’s never this pressed for time. 

And honestly, Donghyuck would’ve preferred to sleep in and miss his morning lecture. Going back to sleep sounds really nice right now. Instead, he rolled out of bed and dashed out of the dorm, adamant to be on time for class and keep up his attendance streak. He’s got a bet to win against Renjun after all, and he will _not_ lose this early in the semester. Maybe after midterms.

Besides, it’s not his fault that his Monday morning alarm clock takes the form of his pink-haired roommate, who usually bangs on Donghyuck’s bedroom door and waits to walk to their class together, the same person who very conveniently didn’t come home last night. That in itself isn’t unusual behaviour — last semester Donghyuck didn’t see his roommate at the dorms for a whole week, only discovering that he slept overnight at the campus library after finals were over — but this is the only third week of classes. There’s no reason for Renjun to be pulling all-nighters yet.

Whatever the reason, Donghyuck isn’t losing the bet today. He compromised his usual university fashion for convenience. Caffeine, however, is not optional. He needs a little buzz to get through this class.

“Next!”

Donghyuck orders quickly. The baristas don’t disappoint, working efficiently to serve his iced coffee. He takes a sip and sucks in a deep breath before jetting to class.

Weaving around other students is easy. The walk to the instructional building is no more than 5 minutes if he walks quickly, and with less than three minutes before class starts Donghyuck makes it across the street in one piece.

It nearly goes to shit when he bumps into someone on his way in and almost drops his drink.

“Shit, sorry,” he says, running a quick sweep of the hand down his shirt. No stains, thankfully, and—

Woah.

“It’s fine,” the man smiles down at him, glorious teeth and big eyes. Tall and handsome, blond and bleached and beautiful — he can’t help himself from ogling at him. Donghyuck might be a little starstruck.

He has no time for this, though.

He replies with another quick “sorry!” and hurries into the building, taking a sharp turn left toward the lecture hall’s back entrance. It’s pretty packed — the clock on the wall says he has two minutes to spare until nine. Whew.

Renjun’s waiting for him in their usual aisle-end spot when he reaches the fifth row.

“Damn, I thought you weren’t gonna show up,” Renjun says, scooting his chair inward. “I was looking forward to you doing my laundry for the rest of the semester.”

Donghyuck passes behind him to sit on Renjun’s right side, away from the aisle. “No way. I don’t need you to wake me up to be on time. I’m _ always _ punctual.”

“Mmmmmhm.” Renjun pushes his seat back and looks at the floor, then returns his attention back to his iPad with a smirk. “Nice shoes.”

“Shut up,” Donghyuck bites, elbowing Renjun in the side. 

He rummages through his backpack for his laptop and rearranges his belongings on the table space in front of him, looking up at the front of the room. Students are filling in the rows of seat closest to the podium. Their professor is still hooking up the laptop to the projector.

Donghyuck’s gaze shifts over to the edge of the room and he sees someone.

“Renjun,” Donghyuck whispers, elbowing Renjun again. “Look up. Hot blond dude at 10 o’clock. I bumped into him earlier and I swear to god I felt his chest muscles on my cheek.”

“Wha— oh.” Renjun quiets when he looks over. The man turns their way, expression shifting from confusion to relief as he widens into another brilliant smile and walks up the stairs toward their row.

“Hi,” the man says, bending down to kiss Renjun on the cheek. “You forgot this at my place this morning.”

“Thanks.” Renjun takes the textbook from the man and places it on the table. “You didn't have to.”

“No biggie.” When the man stands again, he meets eyes with Donghyuck. “Oh! You. Hey,” he says, waving.

“Hi,” Donghyuck says, extending his arm past Renjun. “My name’s Donghyuck, and you are…” he looks over at Renjun. There’s a blush all over his face.

“Yukhei.”

The lights in the hall dim down, leaving a spotlight on the front for the lecture slides projected onto the wall. 

“It was nice meeting you, Donghyuck,” Yukhei says, shaking his hand. He turns to Renjun. “See you later?”

Renjun hums and Yukhei waves goodbye once more, walking up the stairs toward the back exit.

When he’s out of earshot, Renjun turns toward Donghyuck. His cheeks are an undeniable shade of embarrassment. “Before you say anything: shut up.”

Donghyuck zips his mouth closed. “Not a word.”

  
  
  
  


**donghyuck (9:08am)**: @jaemin guess what  
**donghyuck (9:08am)**: i won our bet

**jeno (9:09am)**: what bet ???   
****

**jaemin (9:09am)**: what the fuck  
**jaemin (9:10am)**: @renjun WHO are you dating

**jeno (9:10am)**: ???????  
**jeno (9:10am)**: you bet on renjun’s love life ??????

**yangyang** **(9:12am)**: oop

**renjun (9:15am)**: …  
**renjun (9:15am)**: i hate both of you

**Author's Note:**

> _et moi, je t'aime un peu plus fort_: and me, I love you a little more
> 
> thanks for reading ♡
> 
> [twitter](https://twitter.com/boyfrendery) | [cc](https://curiouscat.me/boyfrendery)


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